


Intermezzo

by roseandheather



Series: Bittersweet And Strange [7]
Category: Inspector Lynley Mysteries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-21
Updated: 2011-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/roseandheather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He owes her the mother of all apologies - but they'll be all right. Post-ep for "Limbo", Lynley/Havers pre-romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intermezzo

"Welcome back, you."

All he could do was sling an arm around her shoulders, tug her close, and sigh in relief. He felt - not whole again, precisely, but but balanced. Safe. Barbara was back in his life, back by his side. They had to talk, he knew - he owed her the mother of all apologies, not to mention an explanation - but they would be all right.

He hoped.

"I probably shouldn't say this," she continued, seemingly unruffled by her latest brush with death, "but... d'you fancy a drink?" He heard the irony in her voice, but she sounded as relieved as he felt that his period of insanity seemed to be over. He was back, and back to stay.

She looked at him with that oh-so-familiar combination of exasperation, amusement, and undisguised affection - and no small amount of relief - and he felt his heart settle.

Oh, yes. They would be just fine.

He wondered, briefly, what had possessed him to push her away for so long - but then, he hadn't exactly been rational at the time.

They continued in comfortable silence to the pub, settling down with whisky and chips, and the familiar routine of it settled him even more. _This_ was the balancing point of his life, and had been for over half a decade; sitting in a pub, with Barbara, chips, and a good drink. No matter what else happened, he'd always have this, have her.

Thank God.

As much as he'd like to think the worst was over, he knew this was only the eye of the storm, knew he'd need her more than ever in the weeks and months ahead.

But if he was to have her then, he needed to apologise now.

He owed her that much, at least, if not more.

"Barbara," he said at last, "I owe you an apology."

Those grass-green eyes of hers fixed on him, and she responded, just as low.

"Yes," she said, "I believe you do."


End file.
